Watch Yourself, Little One
by Lena Ban Obsidian
Summary: Why is Serge the 'silent' protagonist? Well, here's one reason that isn't the obvious one. ^_^;


**Watch Yourself, Little One**

It was very quiet out, today. Not surprising, really, when one considered the weather. Who in their right mind would want to be stuck outside, in the rain? 

Still, he was alone, mother out on some expedition or another. He would have dared to go outside, save that the consequences didn't bode well. After all, that heavy drone of downpour wasn't a facade; he knew well enough that it would be a waste of effort to try and find a friend to spend the storm with. Mother would be home soon. And he was grounded. 

Better to stay in here and wait until he fell asleep. 

_Serge..._

"Huh?" Blinking, surprised, he looked up from his hands, surprised to realize that he'd been toying with his bandana. "Is...is someone there?" It was dim in their house, unless the sun was out. Marge always complained about how dreary the place was at night, and at the moment he was inclined to agree-- now, where had that sound come from? 

A faint mewl startled him, sending him crashing back against the wall in fear of the now puzzled cat. He glared at it through haphazard blue bangs, wincing when he realized there was a bump forming from the collision. Purring softly, the small creature stepped foward, closer to him, nosing at his vest in curiosity and then stopping to peer at him. Its wide yellow eyes examined him as he tried to quell the irrational fear it was causing, and covered it with a bit of youthful anger. 

"Go away," he grumbled, slipping his bandana on almost as if to insult the cat. "Go on." 

Seeming to shrug, the cat meowed again, and darted away into the darkness, hiding in the shadows. 

_Serge..._

He stood up, glancing around the room, trying to locate the source of the sound/not sound he kept hearing. "Who are you? Where?" He took a step back and ran into the wall, swallowing as much of his panic as he could. "Wh-what do you want?" 

Silently, silkily, almost seductively, a thin wisp of a hand slipped over his mouth, grabbing tight and digging sharp claws into his skin when he tried to scream. He had not heard a sound, seen anything move, or felt anything but the wall behind him-- what was this thing? 

What was going on? 

_Be still..._

It was as though he'd been ordered to do the exact opposite; muffled cries rang through the room as he pulled with both hands and all his might at the appendage holding his mouth. A second trailed out of nowhere, grabbed one of his hands by the wrists and pulled his hand forcefully down, stealing around his waist and locking him there. A third hand grabbed his other arm, a fourth grabbed at his ankles, a fifth and more, one after the other they kept materializing, stilling his struggles and finally choking him. 

He felt them everywhere, those hands, those purveyors of cold mist, as the lack of air finally became too much, and he fell to unconsciousness. 

Across the room, the hissing cat watched angrily as Serge was pulled through the wall. 

* * *

_Watch yourself..._

Light. He could sense it waiting for him, and concentrated first on opening his eyes. If he could have, perhaps he would have screamed; as it was, a squeak, most undignified and unmanly, escaped his throat. The beast before him was such as he'd never seen; more limbs than he could count adorned the monster's body, legs and arms mixed up in the chaos of ghostly blue appendages, all growing out from a spherical body that didn't seem to have a head. 

In his young life, Serge had never been allowed that far out of Arni. The worst he'd seen were minor monsters, residents of the sea shore and, on a few occaisions, some small forest daemons. This thing... 

_Watch yourself, little one..._

The presence in his mind was strong, perhaps as strong as the thing he felt in the sea, and the simple message was enough to force his eyes half-closed in pain. He couldn't writhe away, suspended by this beasts powerful limbs, and one of those hans was still clutched threateningly over his mouth. 

He groaned, body going limp, as he fought not to faint. 

_If you don't keep quiet..._

Claws scraped warningly across his stomach, drawing blood. His muscles tensed in reaction, but that voice, that overpowering essence of this creature, it completely consumed him, burned through his mind with the frigid cold of itself. His body arced, seizure gripping him, senses pushed beyond their limits, and the creature withdrew, slightly, allowing him to breathe, giving him a moment to recover. 

Shuddering, terrified, he gasped for the air he'd been denied and felt a wave of shame at the hot, traitorous tears trailing down his face. _Why are you hurting me? Why am I here? What did I DO?_ He whimpered silently as the creature reached for his face with a slender, bony hand. 

_You must be quiet...or it will destroy you._

The claws contricted about him, cutting into him almost lovingly, tracing tiny designs through his ripped clothing. Wincing, he tried to communicate again. _What...is 'it'?_ The cold seeped into him, through the wounds, past them into his blood. Fear had made the beat of his heart seem thunderous in his ears; the dull pulse began to slow, now, chilled by this strange invader. _...what...are you?_

There was no answer, only the feeling of slipping away, of losing to the emptiness whatever it was he'd been fighting for. He knew, of a sudden, that if the creature bespoke him again, it would be over. It was too late to struggle, too late to do anything but hope. 

_We are...the same..._

* * *

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" 

Groggily, he blinked his eyes open. Smiling beatifically down at him was his mother, Marge, her hair swept back into a bun. Panicking for a brief moment, he considered trying to hide under the covers. That didn't really seem like such a great idea, so he just stared up at his mother. 

She frowned, looking a bit worried. "Serge? Are you all right?" 

Hastily nodding, he sat up and rubbed the back of his head, feeling for the bump. Yes, it was still there. _And that...thing? Is it inside of me now?_

"Well, if you say so. Don't forget, you've got to take over for Leena at the docks." Distracted, he looked up in silent inquiry. "You know, babysitting." Honestly confused, he shrugged and shook his head. Marge sighed, exasperated. "Now look here, Serge. You've slept in and kept a nice girl waiting. I don't know why she puts up with you!" As his mother took her leave of him, he tried to remember if the storm had indeed happened the night before. 

_Watch yourself...if you are not quiet...it will destroy you._

Almost fearfully, Serge left the relative sanctity of his bed and crept to the window, peering out at Arni in a mixture of relief and worry. _Same old village..._ But what had happened the night before? What was it? 

Keeping his mouth clamped firmly shut, Serge walked outside towards the pier. 

~End~

* * *

The purpose? Well, I figure there's got to be some unknown reason (beyond the fact that you control him entirely) that Serge is the 'silent protagonist.' Here's a possibility! 

~Lena 


End file.
